


Not So Serene

by Jennifew



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 00:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20144785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennifew/pseuds/Jennifew
Summary: As glad as Ianto was that he and Jack could finally return to Torchwood, the extended mission in Serenity Plaza wasn't as easy to leave behind as the community itself had been.Post-ep and spoilers for the Big Finish audio Serenity.





	Not So Serene

**Author's Note:**

> On the one hand, this fic contains spoilers for nearly every plot point in Serenity. On the other, that is very much a work where _what_ happens isn't nearly as important a part of what makes it enjoyable as _how_ it happens--and, especially, the trappings around the story. (James Moran says something in the inteviews about how during recording he was sitting there cracking up at his own jokes, and I don't blame him. Barrowman and particularly David-Lloyd, combined with said jokes, are hilarious.) So unless you're particularly spoiler-sensitive, I don't think you need to worry about reading this prior to hearing Serenity. I _think_ it should still make sense.

"Oi!" Owen called out as they entered the Hub. "You two done playing house?"

Jack's chuckle sounded forced, which was why Ianto let him get away with saying, "I think Ianto was likely to castrate me if we stayed any longer."

Of course, it also happened to be true. Except now he felt guilty for having ever wanted to harm Jack; despite the fact that he'd revived as always, shooting someone he cared about was not something Ianto would get over quickly, no matter how necessary it had seemed at the time.

"What's the matter, Tea-boy not enjoying his extended holiday?"

That earned the full force of the glare he'd refrained from sending Jack. "For your information, being a Stepford Wife--_don't_ say it--is bloody exhausting. And mind-numbing. And rage-inducing. And I've had more than my fill of snide, petty sniping over these past few months, so I'd think very carefully about what you say around me, Owen. Unless you'd like a matching scar in your other shoulder? Except this time the bullet wound wouldn't heal, would it? Pity."

Owen held up his hands in surrender, but didn't heed the warning. "What's got his knickers in a twist?"

Ianto started for him, but Jack's hand on his arm stayed his advance. Which he was grateful for, really--or would be later, at any rate. As much as he'd love to take his feelings about this mission out on someone, injuring a co-worker who wouldn't be able to recover was not something he truly wanted to do, regardless of the provocation.

It didn't hurt that Jack also told Owen to knock it off, not at all amused by their byplay the way he usually was.

"So...did you find the sleeper?" Tosh ventured, looking back and forth between them.

He laughed humourlessly. "You could say that."

"So...that's a yes?"

Jack took pity on her confusion at his admittedly vague answer and explained about the plot to convert everyone in the community into members of Cell 114, as a prelude to converting the rest of humanity. The growing horror on the others' faces mirrored his own feelings on the subject, even now after a couple of hours to digest it all. Or perhaps that should be 'especially now'; time didn't seem to be making this case any easier to accept. Not yet, at any rate.

"You found a way to stop them, though, right?" Gwen asked

"Sure did. Used the sub-etheric resonator on the residents of Serenity Plaza, then turned it on their ship in orbit. Cell 114 is no more."

"You what?! How could you, Jack?"

"Easy, I pressed the button," he snapped in full-on Heartless Bastard mode.

Since even Gwen Bloody Cooper could occasionally see when there was no reasoning with Jack, she turned on him. "And you just let him?"

His temper, already hanging on by a thread, snapped. "No, I didn't _let_ him. I questioned whether it was necessary, then continued linking the sub-etheric resonator to their transmitter so he'd have the tools he'd need if he decided to go through with it. I _did my job_, Gwen, and let him do his. Which is making the tough decisions for the greater good, the ones you or I wouldn't be able to live with even for our pathetically short life spans. Jack has to live with them forever, yet he is willing to take on that burden to protect the rest of us. That's what leading Torchwood _means_, or haven't you figured that out yet?"

"It doesn't mean he's right!" she protested, as usual. She could be so predictable at times. 

"Not inherently, no, but given his vast experience with both Torchwood and aliens in general, he usually has a better understanding of the risks involved than the rest of us, and we'd do well to take that into account and listen when he says there's nothing we can do. Or have you learnt nothing from the incident with Jonah Bevan?"

"There must have been another way--"

"Says who, Gwen? You? Care to tell me what we should have done instead, to prevent Cell 114 from converting every person on the bloody planet into one of them? No, I'm not happy about it, but I can accept that it was probably, if not the _right_ call, then at least the only one possible. Sometimes there simply are no good choices, no way to save everyone. If it's a matter of choosing one genocide over another, I'll take the one that doesn't end with wiping out the species we're sworn to protect."

"I can't accept that there's ever a justification for wiping out an entire alien race. And I find it hard to believe you really do, deep down."

"Of course I do, Gwen," he told her plainly, the fight draining out of him now that it was clear they'd just be going around in circles if he continued trying to engage with her on the topic. "If I didn't, I never would have been able to forgive you lot for killing Lisa."

He could feel their eyes on him as he left the main Hub, heading for the precious solitude of the archives. Days like today were the worst part about this job, and the last thing he needed right now was to be hounded about not having done the impossible. He hated what they'd done, but he still trusted Jack had made the right decision.

He hadn't been in the archives for more than a few minutes when he had to run for the tiny loo some long-forgotten Torchwood archivist had installed, presumably so they wouldn't have to climb five flights of stairs each time they needed to use it. As he emptied the meagre contents of his stomach--mostly cheap vodka; they never did get a chance to eat anything at the barbecue--Ianto tried to convince himself he was having a delayed reaction to helping wipe out what was left of Cell 114, but he knew himself better than that. He regretted the necessity, but as he'd told Gwen, he accepted it as part of the job. The memory that was making him ill was not of Cell 114, but of having killed Jack. Even knowing he would (probably) come back, even with the very real possibility that the person who looked like Jack had been transformed into an alien sent to spy on him--hell, even with all Ianto's recent frustration with the real Jack, who'd been able to get away from that bloody insane prison and return to the real world for several hours every weekday whilst Ianto had been trapped playing happy homemaker--he couldn't bear knowing he'd done that. He hadn't been able to bring himself to stop what was left of Lisa even after she'd started killing; how could he shoot Jack just on the chance it wasn't really him?

When had he started taking Jack's life for granted the way everyone else--including Jack himself--did?

As he rinsed out his mouth, Ianto swore to himself that he would never do that again. Well, maybe if Jack was dying anyway in some horribly painful fashion and it would hurt him less to get it over with so he could start healing...maybe then, Ianto could kill him. Maybe. But he didn't want to feel this way ever again if he could possibly avoid it.

Returning to the archives proper, he thought that just this once he might be able to forgive the team's tendency to simply leave files and artefacts in a pile for him to sort out. In fact, though he'd never let them know for fear of making the problem even worse, he was actually almost glad of it. Having legitimate work to do away from the others should help him calm his thoughts and settle back in to the real world. Or, rather, what passed for it at Torchwood.

It took a few minutes, but he managed to get his mind focused and was starting to get into the rhythm of cataloguing and filing when he was interrupted.

"I want to thank you," Jack said from behind him. Luckily those futuristic pheromones always gave his presence away, preventing Ianto from making a fool of himself whenever Jack tried to sneak up on him in an open space. Which was often.

"For what?"

"For being you."

"Not sure I'd know how to be anyone else. Not really. I know you could tell how fake Ifan was, even if the neighbours couldn't. Ianto kept breaking through."

"That was half the fun," he said with a small laugh, probably thinking of that humiliating outburst at the final barbecue, "but not what I meant."

"Oh?" Ianto finally turned to face him, curious where this was going.

"I told you back at the beginning that workplace relationships are a bad idea."

"I remember."

"I learned that one the hard way. And yet, I couldn't stay away from you. Do you know why?"

"Haven't the foggiest," he admitted. He'd often wondered about that, but was never able to think of a convincing reason he'd be a temptation to someone like Jack. In the end, he'd decided to just not think about it and enjoy what time they had.

Jack began closing the distance between them. "You're gorgeous, of course, and brilliant, and funny. I like all those qualities, but other people have had them before, sometimes even all three at once. What makes you unique, someone I wanted to take the risk of being with, was exactly what you said up there. You accept that sometimes bad things have to be done for the greater good, sacrifices have to be made. You don't urge me on when I'm faced with situations like today's, but you also don't see the world in black and white like Gwen does. You keep me honest, Ianto Jones, and then when it's over you keep me together. I know this mission was harder on you than on me, and I'm sorry for that, but in addition to simply wanting to spend more time with you and try out the fantasy of a normal life together, I needed your support. I always need that."

"And I'll always give it to you," he murmured, embarrassed by Jack's uncharacteristic openness.

"I know," Jack replied, "and I hate that it's going to get you killed some day."

"Well, at least if it does you'll have the comfort of knowing you tried your best not to hire me," Ianto said, hoping to lighten the mood. "It wasn't your fault I had an ulterior motive making me particularly determined to work for Torchwood again."

"You really weren't going to take no for an answer, were you?"

"Nope." He hesitated, then admitted, "And to tell you the truth, this mission wasn't _all_ bad."

"No?"

"No. A lot of it, yes--I meant everything I said to Owen earlier--but it had its moments." Such as learning that Jack considered them to be exclusive, which was something he'd not dared to hope for, given Jack's...Jackness. And despite the ridiculously over-the-top quality of their charade, it had been nice to have an opportunity to say--and hear--some of the things that they simply didn't say ordinarily, whether they were real or not.

"Yeah, it did. But now," Jack added as he began moving them towards the entrance to the archives, "it's time to rejoin the team and get back to what passes for normal around here...boyfriend."

"You're not going to let that go, are you?" Ianto asked, resigned.

"Not any time soon, no," he gleefully admitted.

Ianto opened his mouth to point out that the word was a convenient shorthand, given that what they actually were would take too long to explain, then reconsidered. For all his teasing, Jack hadn't seemed put out by being referred to that way, at least not in an off-the-cuff rant of things he couldn't actually say to their now-former neighbours. Didn't really seem to be much point in defending his word choice now. Still, Jack needn't know it hadn't been the first time Ianto had called him that; "my boss whom I'm sleeping with and occasionally dating when we're not too busy saving the world" just didn't have the same ring to it.

"Just don't go expecting me to cook for you anymore," he warned instead. "I've had enough of that to last a lifetime. You can go back to surviving on takeaway like the rest of us."

Jack stopped walking. When Ianto turned back to see why, he looked worried. "What about--?"

Ianto rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm still willing to make the coffee."

"Good." Jack flashed his 'aren't I charming?' grin. "That's the only reason I keep you around, anyway."

"Well, obviously," Ianto replied dryly, unable to resist adding, "Geraint."

The fondness and even affection in Jack's laughter warmed him the rest of the way back to the main Hub.

**Author's Note:**

> Part of me wants to hang onto this longer to a) edit and b) try to come up with a less boring title. But more of me wants to get it posted before I head to Ireland on Saturday for WorldCon, so...here it is.


End file.
